


Oh Well

by witchythief



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Friendship, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:37:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchythief/pseuds/witchythief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela confronts Hawke about her dry spell, and pity for her poor, stupid friend follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrish/gifts).



> As always, many thanks to to valkyrish for her support and constructive criticism. This is somewhat of a companion piece to an INCREDIBLE Hawke/Varric story she wrote for me as a gift called _[The Long Haul](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4988548)_.

To truly impress Isabela was a feat many attempted but few achieved, and Hawke had somehow managed without even trying.   
  
As it turned out, there were quite a few things about Hawke worth admiring beyond the way her hips swayed as she sauntered about Kirkwall.  After all, one had to respect a mage who could summon fire from the sky, heal her allies in the middle of a fight, and still have enough stamina to bludgeon a man to death with a staff as stylishly as Hawke did.  But there was more to it.  Hawke was good without being self-righteous about it.  She would grouse about the inconvenience and even mock those who came to her for help, but it was all show.  She never turned aside anyone with true need, and she always came through in the end.  Indeed, it seemed Hawke could do everything except get laid.     
  
It wasn't due to a lack of interested parties.  There was Anders, who not-so-subtly pined for his fellow apostate despite an allegedly rocky start to their friendship, and Isabela suspected that Hawke's kindness had earned her enough of Fenris' hard won trust that if she expressed interest he would at least consider it.  Even outside of their little circle there was no shortage of men whose heads turned when Hawke passed, though very few were bold or stupid enough to catcall a woman of her standing.  Or perhaps it was the wild tales Varric spun about her prowess as a mage that encouraged their respect.     
  
Regardless, the point was that Hawke seemed willfully oblivious to any and all male attention that wasn't coming from someone asking for her help or trying to kill her, and there had to be reason for it.     
  
She found the opportune moment drinking with Hawke and Varric at the Hanged Man after a night of cleaning the streets of Lowtown. The obvious candidates, Anders and Fenris, had already left for the night having lost all their coin to either Varric or herself during Wicked Grace, and Aveline wasn't around to scold her for prying.  Not that it would have stopped her, but it made things easier.     
  
"If you aren't interested in men, why haven't you ever taken me up on my offer?" asked Isabela.   
  
Hawke didn't miss a beat. She rarely did.   
  
"Offers," she corrected. Varric snickered at her side, and she raised her mug to her lips as much to drink from it as to conceal the smirk that threatened to betray her deadpan delivery.     
  
Isabela rolled her eyes, but pressed on.  "I've known you for two years now, and in all that time you've never looked anyone's way."   
  
"Rivaini's got a point, Hawke," said Varric, shrugging when Hawke turned her attention to him.   
  
"What's _your_ interest in the matter, Varric?" she asked.   
  
He chuckled and said,  "Every good hero needs a love interest."   
  
"Then I guess I'm not a very good hero."   
  
It sounded almost like any other witty retort that Hawke might have said, and the weary sigh she heaved might have been for dramatic effect.  Still, there was something about her tone that seemed a bit off.

"Bullshit," said Varric, interrupting Isabela's thoughts.  He grinned as he polished off the last of his pint.   
  
Hawke laughed and it sounded genuine. Maybe she had read too much into Hawke's tone.  She did look happy.  Varric’s comments seemed to have effectively ended the conversation, but Isabela still wasn’t satisfied.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”   
  
Hawke turned back to her, and with a sigh she asked, "Do you really want to know?   
  
Isabela smirked. "I asked, didn't I?"   
  
"It's so terribly obvious."  She paused for a moment to take a swig from her mug, and then she looked Isabela in the eyes and said,  "I'm madly in love with Varric, of course."   
  
Isabela groaned, and Varric let out a hearty laugh.  Hawke snickered, too, but as soon as he looked away she stopped and took a long drink of her ale.

_Maker's balls_ , thought Isabela.   _She can't be that daft.  Can she?_   
  
If Hawke was bold enough to make a statement like that, she would just shrug off anything else Isabela tried to throw at her.  There was no sense in pushing with Varric present, anyway.  She needed to wait until her guard was down, so she played along.   
  
"You're awful, Hawke," said Isabela.  "You know that?"   
  
"I try."   
  
"All right, you're on your own now, Rivaini.  It's past my bedtime," said Varric.  He waved for Norah's attention, and once he had it he added,  "Put the ladies on my tab for the night."   
  
"So generous," said Hawke, raising her mug.  "Sweet dreams, Varric."   
  
"Hawke."   
  
"Oh,” she said, giggling.  “Right.”

After they bid each other goodnight, Hawke watched as Varric disappeared up the stairs to his suite.  Her gaze lingered there on the empty landing for a moment before she turned away. When she noticed Isabela’s smirk, she narrowed her eyes and said, "What's that look for?"   
  
"There's really no one who's caught your eye?"   
  
Hawke groaned.  "Why can't you find something else to harass me about?"   
  
"Ugh, that sounds just like something Aveline would say," said Isabela, chuckling when it elicited a shocked gasp from Hawke. "If you just answer me I'll stop."   
  
"Oh, Isabela," said Hawke, hanging her head with a heavy sigh. She looked up, frowning as she pushed her hair away from her face. "I already did."   
  
_I knew it!_ and _She is completely daft!_ came to mind first, but instead, for the sake of her friend, Isabela said, "You can't be serious."   
  
Hawke scoffed.  "That's why it works."   
  
Isabela frowned and sighed.  "Of all the men and women in Kirkwall..." She trailed off, and a smirk started to creep back onto Hawke's lips.  "You poor, stupid thing."   
  
At that Hawke shrugged and started to laugh.  "Oh well."   
  
Isabela shook her head, and stood to round the table to sit beside Hawke.  She draped her arm over her shoulder, and Hawke leaned in, returning her embrace with a sigh.   
  
"It's fine, really," said Hawke, resting her head on Isabela's shoulder.  "We're both happy."   
  
It was ridiculous to Isabela.  She never imagined Hawke to be the type to love someone from afar, but perhaps it shouldn't have surprised her.  When had Hawke ever put her own needs first?  But if she was content, that was all that mattered.  She could and would tease Hawke about this later, but it could wait until she was less morose.   
  
"Well," said Isabela, waving to get Norah's attention again. "The least he can do is buy you another drink."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
